


The Girlfriend Dilemma

by rainfall



Category: Bleach
Genre: F/M, Romance, Valentine's Day Did Not Go As Planned, What are girlfriends anyway, unconventional romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-10
Updated: 2008-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-15 20:50:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/531557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainfall/pseuds/rainfall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichigo does not know how to have a girlfriend, nor does he know what to call what he has.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Girlfriend Dilemma

**Author's Note:**

> Written a million, billion years ago (as the publican date should indicate). As a warning, I haven't read Bleach in at least a year, so I don't know what's going on there now. But this is one of the fics I wrote that I still like, and I wanted to share it with all of you here on AO3.

The little box made an oddly ominous sound as it hit the pavement.

Ichigo blinked.

Tatsuki stared down at him forbiddingly.

Clearly he was supposed to do something here. He tugged out his ear phones, picked up the box, and turned it over in his hands, looking for -- clues, he supposed. It made him feel like one of the detectives in Karin's TV shows. Only distinctly less brilliant. Tatsuki's eyes were still fixed on him, and she didn't seem inclined to explain. 

If only Mizuiro or Keigo were here, but for some reason she'd waited until it was just the two of them on the roof. He should have expected something like this, though, she'd never eaten lunch with them before--

Then he finally worked the box open, and found chocolate inside.

Ichigo wet his lips and pointed out, "Valentine's Day is tomorrow."

She snorted, and probably rolled her eyes, but he was having trouble looking at her so he couldn't be sure. "Yeah, right. As if I'd get you anything for _that_. Just eat them, okay?"

"They're not poisoned or anything, are they?"

There was a short pause, and when he finally managed to force himself to lift his head, Ichigo thought he saw a strange expression on her face -- something he'd never seen there before, something he never wanted to see there again. Then she punched him in the arm, and snapped, "See if I ever do anything nice for _you_ again. It's just chocolate, okay? My mom made a ton of them for Christmas, these are leftovers, I don't want them going to waste. But if you're going to be a jerk about it--"

"No," he said hastily, rubbing his shoulder. For a playful punch, it had kind of hurt. "I'll eat them. Sorry."

Tatsuki looked only slightly mollified. "Good," she said, and turned for the building door. As she opened it, she added over her shoulder, "And don't get any stupid ideas. I don't want anything for White Day. White chocolate's kind of nasty anyway."

He was missing something here, but she didn't wait for a reply, slamming the heavy door shut behind her, and he stayed behind, so lost in his thoughts that it took him several minutes to realize that she had just locked him outside.

But the chocolates were pretty good, really. Especially for month-old leftovers.

*

He didn't see Tatsuki again for the rest of the day, and Inoue seemed puzzled by it; apparently, the two of them had made plans to see a movie after school, and Tatsuki hadn't so much canceled as just disappeared. Being Inoue, though, the other girl wasn't upset. Just a little worried.

"I'm sure she's fine," Ichigo told her. "She seemed okay earlier, and she wouldn't have come if she was sick just to give people chocolate."

"Chocolate?" Inoue repeated blankly. "What chocolate?"

Something lurched in his stomach, but Ichigo ignored it valiantly. "You know," he persisted. "Her mom made a lot, she's giving them to people today?" He found himself pulling out the box and opening it to show her the remaining chocolates, as if she would be hugely skeptical of his story and require hard proof.

Inoue only eyed them longingly. "Tatsuki-chan never said. Ohh, that's not fair, I didn't know her mom knew how to make chocolate. Why didn't she tell me? Was there only one box left? Does she think I should be dieting? Kurosaki-kun, do you think she thinks I'm fat? I mean, she must, right?"

This was one of those questions Mizuiro had warned him about. Supposedly there was no right answer. Ichigo squirmed a little and wondered how they had gotten onto this topic, which was something he often wondered when he was talking to Inoue. "Why wouldn't her mom know how to make chocolate?" he tried instead.

It worked. "I don't know," Inoue admitted thoughtfully. "I thought Tatsuki-chan said she didn't believe in dessert, just fruit and things after meals. Tatsuki-chan always makes the cake for my birthday by herself, because one year her mother tried to make something sugar-free, and Tatsuki-chan said it wasn't fit for human consumption." Then she brightened. "She must have changed her mind! That would be wonderful, because Tatsuki-chan and I both _really_ believe in dessert."

Ichigo frowned. He didn't think that was very likely. But if Tatsuki's mother hadn't made the chocolate, then... she had made them herself? Why would she lie about something like that?

Well, there was only one way to find out. He walked Inoue to her turnoff, and then doubled back for Tatsuki's, and wondered why he hadn't just told the other girl where he was going.

Then he realized that he hadn't really wanted her to come along, and felt a little strange.

*

Tatsuki's apartment was mostly dark, but he could see a light on in the room he knew was hers. It felt a little strange to be standing out here on her corner, alone. The two of them had been fast friends in elementary school, but somewhere in junior high, they'd -- he didn't want to say "drifted apart," because that didn't seem right at all. It was more as if, Tatsuki had made friends with a bunch of girls her own age, girls he barely knew, and he had met Keigo and Mizuiro and Chad...

He still thought of her as his friend, and he was sure she thought of him the same way, but hanging out was weird when all of your other friends were exclusive. This was the first time they'd had lunch together all year.

There was a ghost in the elevator of her building, an older woman who mostly seemed to purse her lips and stare irritably at the backs of people's heads. She had been there for as long as he could remember, and even as a child he remembered her snapping at him to stand up straight. Slouching was bad for his posture, apparently. She had never asked for anything else from him, or even tried to follow him out of the elevator. Why couldn't more ghosts be like her?

"It's been a while," she said today. "Almost didn't recognize you, sonny." And then, as though this had verged uncomfortably on being pleasant, she added crossly, "You're growing up into quite the little hoodlum, aren't you?"

Ichigo's lips twitched, but he didn't respond. After all, he wasn't the only one in the elevator.

The old woman twisted around him. "Can't be bothered to make civil conversation, eh? Why am I not surprised. What's that you've got there, sonny?"

Her tone had changed to something much milder, so he looked over and found her gazing at the box of chocolates he still had stowed under his arm. For some reason, he felt his face heat up.

"Did your girlfriend give you those?" the woman asked. "Does she live here? Did you not thank her, or something, you ruffian? Kids today have no manners, no manners at all."

He forgot the other people, forgot the elevator, forgot that talking to invisible things made him look crazy. "She's _not_ my girlfriend!"

"No," the ghost agreed snidely. "She won't be for long, if you can't learn how to be properly appreciative when she makes you chocolates for Valentine's Day."

Everyone was staring at him. Ichigo bit his lip and stared at the far wall and said nothing. But it was absurd. The very idea of Tatsuki, being his girlfriend. She was such a -- so -- she just _wasn't_ girlfriend material. Girlfriends were creatures that made you go to boring movies and carry their shopping bags and hold open doors. You had to take them out to expensive restaurants and wear tuxedos and things like that. Then, when their birthdays came around, they expected roses and nice jewelry. Before he could have a girlfriend, Ichigo was pretty sure he'd have to get a couple of part-time jobs.

Tatsuki didn't expect any of those things from him. She liked pizza and action movies. She carried her own bags and opened her own doors. When he'd tried to get her a bracelet for her tenth birthday, Tatsuki had given him a black eye and snapped, "What the hell is this? I wanted _Killer Instinct_. Are you stupid?"

And today, whatever she said, that same girl had made him chocolate. Homemade chocolate, for Valentine's Day. Even he knew what that implied.

The old woman said, "What's with that expression, sonny? You look like a fool."

Ichigo reached up to touch his lips, and felt a funny, fond little half-smile there. Foolish? Probably. But that only made him grin harder. He _was_ a fool, after all. He'd been a fool for ages now.

But there was still time to fix that, wasn't there?

He stayed on the elevator long after her floor, and then rode it back down again. He'd need some things first.

*

Tatsuki blinked, and then scowled at him. "What are you doing here?"

She had changed into an oversized t-shirt. It was printed like a baseball jersey, and came down to just below her hips. Ichigo couldn't tell if she had anything else on under it. He stared for a few seconds before jerking his eyes back up to her face.

"I got you something," he told her, and watched her scowl deepen. She was going to give him another black eye. Hastily he tugged open his school bag and removed the box. It was bigger than hers had been, but then it had to be.

Tatsuki took the box from him, and began stiffly, "What did I tell you? I didn't want anything--"

"--For White Day," Ichigo finished for her, and grinned in spite of the ever-darkening expression on her face. "Because you've hated white chocolate since we were kids." She had been six, and so pissed off to learn that she would forever be consigned to white chocolate, just because she'd had the bad luck to be born a girl. "I remembered."

She was staring at him now, the scowl slowly fading, and when he reached out to help her open the box and their fingers brushed, her face went red. He'd made the right call, he was sure of it now. Blushing was never a bad sign, and even if she hadn't meant any of it, even if she rejected him now, he kind of thought it would have been worth it. Tatsuki wasn't the type to blush, and it looked -- she looked -- pretty, soft and _almost_ vulnerable.

"How much money did you spend on this?"

He shrugged, and watched her open it, and waited until she blinked in surprise at the contents. An assortment of truffles. Elegant, and expensive, and all dark chocolate, which he remembered she liked better than milk. He could see it on her face -- she was trying to decide what this meant. So, he would help her out, even though she hadn't helped him.

"Sorry they're not homemade," he said. Oh god, this was the moment. This was it. "I would've, but I don't know how. So I tried to get the most expensive thing they had."

Which meant, he knew, almost as much, as far as these things went.

Tatsuki didn't look up, but he could see her grip tightening on the box. She said, in a choked sort of voice, "I didn't make yours either. My mom--"

"I know, I know." Ichigo could feel his heartbeat in his fingertips, his ears. He had never been this nervous in his life, not for anything. "I mentioned that to Inoue." And there, there was the telltale stiffening in her shoulders. "She seemed pretty surprised your mother knew how to make anything sweet."

There was a very long pause, and then the dark-haired girl lifted her head.

"You weren't supposed to say anything to her," she told him, and it would have been stern but she was still flushed and her eyes were misty. She rubbed at them hastily with the back of her hand, the wrist and palm still braced with bandages leftover from her karate club. "You were just supposed to eat your damn chocolate and forget about it."

Ichigo hesitated, then reached out to catch her wrist. "I tried," he offered. "But they were really good."

That made her laugh, and she finally met his eyes properly. "Don't tell anyone else," she said. "I'm going to kiss you now, but I don't want to make a big deal out of this, or anything."

The idea of kissing her made him slightly dizzy, but Ichigo forced himself to focus, to imagine the lewd comments Keigo would make, Mizuiro's bemused questions. How Chad wouldn't say a word, but he'd know the other boy was _thinking_ things. "Right. Promise."

She grabbed him then, by the front of his uniform, and jerked him back into her apartment, almost off his feet. Her lips were firm, insistent, hungry, and he knew instantly that she'd been wanting to do this for a while. He reached behind them for the door, felt it clumsily and forced it shut, so that they were alone in the small entranceway, the only light dim and coming from the kitchen.

It wasn't the first time they'd done anything like this -- wasn't the first time he had slipped a hand beneath her shirt and touched her skin curiously, or the first time she had shoved him up against the wall, tugged his pants down, pulled his cock out, and palmed him hard. They were teenagers, and best friends, and neither one of them had had anyone else to experiment with...

Which was what it had been -- experimentation...

He didn't think she'd ever even kissed him on the mouth before--

Somehow, they had made their way back into her bedroom. He was naked and she was getting there, shucking her shirt and proving that she'd had very little underneath it. Her panties hit the wall and her bra followed, and he remembered the way he'd struggled that one time to work the clasp.

Then she was on her bed, knees parted, waiting expectantly but not looking at him.

Ichigo paused.

He wanted this; his body knew hers, recognized every touch, and was very excited by where they were headed. She wanted this; even in the pale evening light, he could see the moisture between her legs, and the muscles in her thighs rippled with impatience. But it still felt like everything else they'd done over the years, and--

And she had made him _chocolate_. For Valentine's Day.

She wanted more than what they'd done shyly as little more than awkward children.

He wanted more.

"Wait," he said. "Not like this."

Tatsuki grabbed hold of his hips and glared at them. "Just like this. Don't make it into a big--"

"But it is a big deal."

That stopped her, made her stare up at him uncertainly. She looked even more vulnerable now, but at least she wasn't avoiding his eyes anymore. Ichigo reached down, and cupped her face, and kissed her. Slow, soft. Still hungry, he knew.

She was breathing heavily when he withdrew, the hot breeze of it tickling his lips. When he touched the inside of her thigh, stroked up to feel her sex, she was even wetter than before. The touch of his fingers made her gasp, made her back arch quietly.

"It's a big deal," he repeated, pulling his hand away reluctantly. "And it should be. We should be -- dating, or something."

Tatsuki shivered, and fixed her eyes on him, big and dark and firm. "Okay," she said, and in spite of her conceding tone, as if she were only agreeing to calm a spoiled child, he could tell by the way her whole body relaxed that she liked the idea. "But _after_. Right now, fucking. Hard, and fast, and until I see stars. Agreed?"

She had gotten a hand below his belly, curling her fingers around his length and cupping his balls in a way that made him groan noisily. Ichigo felt his eyes rolling back and nodded helplessly. "After -- after's good," he managed vaguely. "And maybe next time, ahhh -- try it slow?"

His best friend and now-maybe-girlfriend laughed a wicked little laugh. "Next time, huh? What makes you think you're getting a next time? We'll be dating, everyone knows good girls don't put out before the third date--" She cut herself off in a moan. He had her nipple in his mouth, and was working his tongue around it in a slow circle. "Well," she relented breathlessly, "maybe the second date."

That was all he needed to hear, and it was hard, and it was fast, and they went on until she confessed to having seen stars, and it shouldn't have felt so significant, shouldn't have had any right to feel _important_ and _romantic_. It should have felt rushed and sloppy and inexperienced, just like every other time.

It hadn't.

Ichigo didn't think it would ever again. And he knew he'd been this happy before, at some point in his life, but when she turned and curled her smaller body into his, he found that he really, really couldn't remember anything that came even close.

He had a girlfriend, one of those monstrous things he'd heard so much about. He would need a second job now, and a lot of practice at holding open doors and paying for things. Conventional wisdom said he should be feeling trapped, and frightened.

But he didn't just have a girlfriend. He had a Tatsuki. And sleepily, Ichigo rather thought that they were much better than ordinary girlfriends.


End file.
